


you're beautiful

by petalloso



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalloso/pseuds/petalloso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Iwaaaa-chan,” he drawls, “are you admiring my perfect face?”<br/>Iwaizumi feels a fluttering in the pit of his stomach at the raspy tone of Oikawa’s voice.<br/>“Yeah. I am, actually,” he says quietly, feeling as though any louder of a confession will spoil something that seems far too important at the moment.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	you're beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually my first fic ever, so it might be a little ooc, but i really love these babes and their dynamic, so voila! thank you for reading x

The corners of his eyelids are tinted red, Iwaizumi notices, probably from rubbing at them too hard, and from staying up too late doing whatever the hell he does instead of sleeping like he should, like he needs to.

He notices too Oikawa’s long, dark eyelashes as his sleepy eyes flutter open to peer at Iwaizumi studying him, the curve of his high cheekbones, the shape of his lips, chapped and split in the middle, yet still so lovely, a red that matches the corners of his tired hazel-brown eyes.

They lay on the sofa of Iwaizumi’s newly-rented small, messy apartment, the rising sun casting a yellowish light on their entangled limbs, Oikawa lying on top of him, having barged in way too early, 4:47 to be exact, whining about his inability to fall asleep now that he’d watched too many YouTube videos, and begging Iwaizumi to please let him sleep here with him, because he’d always fallen asleep quickly in Iwaizumi’s embrace, sharing a blanket and body warmth, ever since they’d been little.

Now Oikawa looks up at him, eyes still half-lidded, smiling lazily, having just woken up to find Iwaizumi intently looking at him, Iwaizumi whose somehow forgotten to look away now that Oikawa has caught him. He thinks maybe he should probably care he’s been caught, anticipates the teasing he’s about to receive from a barely coherent Oikawa, but he finds he doesn’t mind so much, at least, not anymore.

“Iwaaaa-chan,” he drawls, “are you admiring my perfect face?”

Iwaizumi feels the fluttering in the pit of his stomach at the raspy tone of Oikawa’s voice, a fluttering he’d always just blamed on pre-game nerves, because there was always a game to be played soon, even if it was two three four weeks away. Had to be pre-game nerves, he always told himself. Not the look in Oikawa’s eyes when he glanced at him before a set, intense yet soft, even though he never needed to, or when he snuck a glance at Iwaizumi when he thought he wouldn’t notice, a gentle gaze he never quite understood. Or whenever Iwaizumi offered him a massage when he overworked himself, because he always could tell when Oikawa was hurting even when he hid the grimaces, disguised them as smiles, and Oikawa would accept the offer. It wasn’t when they brushed fingers accidentally as they strolled together after school, both pretending they didn’t mean it when neither of them pulled away. It couldn’t be the sleepovers they had before the night of a big game, when they slept in the same bed with the excuse that Oikawa was always too cold, and needed the warmth to play well the next day, or when they’d wake up with their legs and arms tangled around one another, pretending to be asleep so neither of them had to move. Iwaizumi always told himself the feeling, the flutter in his stomach, the warmth of his neck and tips of his ears, the ache is his chest, surely couldn’t come from Oikawa’s very existence.

But he was wrong. It does, and the realization comes not as some sort of life-changing epiphany, because really Oikawa has always been there, right next to him, but as something that’s been just out of reach, just grazing his fingers, and now able to finally be held. He knows, he understands now, gazing down at Oikawa laying on his chest, who still awaits an answer to his teasing question, slight confusion apparent in the quirk of his eyebrows at how long Iwaizumi has taken to answer.

“Yeah. I am, actually,” he says quietly, feeling as though any louder of a confession will spoil something that seems far too important at the moment. 

Oikawa’s mouth forms a small ‘O’, his eyes widening, eyebrows raising straight up into the tufts of messy, chocolate-brown hair that fall into his face. 

  
“Am I still dreaming?” he asks, genuinely questioning if he’s awake or not.

“No,” Iwaizumi tells him, feeling the bravery of his confession slipping away as his face begins to burn. He looks away. 

“You’re just kinda beautiful, is all,” he finishes, awaiting some sort of reply, anything really, but getting only unnerving silence. He shifts his eyes back to Oikawa, and is greeted with his grinning face, a little too bright for so early in the morning. It looks as if he might break his face with how hard he’s smiling at him, and Iwaizumi feels his chest ache.

“Stop that or you’ll blind me, Shittykawa.”

But he doesn’t. If anything, he only grins harder, which should be impossible really, lifting himself with his elbows in Iwaizumi’s ribs so that their faces are drawn closer together, and Iwaizumi can see the flecks of caramel in his eyes, his eyelashes. They really are long. He doesn’t mind so much the press of Oikawa’s sharp elbows. Their noses are almost touching now.

“Iwa-chan, you just called me beautiful.”

He only grunts.

“Was that some sort of Iwa-esque confession?”

He’s having trouble meeting his eyes, too distracted by Oikawa’s thumb running circles around the scar on his chin. He remembers, vaguely, when he got it, grade two, having tripped searching for Oikawa’s aliens in the forest behind their houses, smacking his chin on a rock, and how Oikawa had cried more than he had, mumbling worried words through his hiccuped sobs at how much he was bleeding, which really wasn’t all that much, how Iwaizumi had desperately tried to stop his tears, hugging his shaking limbs, blood dripping onto Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa had been shorter than him back them, he recalls. Maybe that’s when it all started, the fluttering, the ache.

“Yeah, I guess. Probably.”

“Probably?” Oikawa repeats, still grinning fiercely.

“Fine, yes. Yeah, it was. I think-I think I might be in love wi-” Oikawa doesn’t let him finish, pressing chapped lips to Iwaizumi’s, parted in mid-sentence. They’re warm against his, unlike the rest of him pressed against Iwaizumi, his cold hands on Iwaizumi’s burning cheeks. He feels Oikawa’s smile against his own, and when they part, he sees Oikawa half-dazed, a pinkish hue spreading across his cheeks.

“I think that I might probably be in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asks. He feels like flying. And like kissing him again.

“Yeah,” Oikawa laughs, “I really am. Took you long enough, though.”

“Hey, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

“That’s okay, Iwa-chan. I forgive you. Im patient, as you well know.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Ha, course you are.”

“Was that a hint of sarcasm I detected in your voice?”

“No.”

“You’re a bad liar, Iwa-chan.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Oikawa says, leaning in again to kiss him, until they’re both a bit breathless.

“By the way, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, pulling away for air, “you’re pretty beautiful too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3


End file.
